Living a lie
by Braveheart185
Summary: Okay,so it's an eigth year Dramione fic, and Hermione is Head Girl. When she finds out that former-student-and-deatheater Draco Malfoy has returned, she is determined to take her duty seriously, and rid Hogwarts of the plague that is him. But unfortunately, things don't go quite as she had planned.. Rated M for later chapters, there will be angst, and some especially dark chapters,
1. Chapter 1

AN-This Dramione will be quite long; I don't want the stuff to be rushed.  
Disclaimer-None of this stuff is mine; I'm just borrowing it from J. :) I own nothing but the plot line. Read and review, please!

0-0-0

Hermione collapsed onto the worn, old seat with a sigh, grateful to have found an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It saddened her that she was anxious, for the first time ever, to be returning to the castle that was her school. She hadn't been back there since the Battle. Who knew what condition it was in..who knew how being back there her feel?  
Even as she considered all of this, Hermione knew that a part of her was rejoycing; she was going home. After the battle, Mcgonnagol had announced that none of last year would be taken into account; although the students would pass up a year, they would be re-taught all that they ought to have learnt the prevous year, alongside their new studies. As for those who would have been in their seventh year, the new Headmistress was allowing all who wished to return to re-do their last years, in a new eigth year. New dorms had been added to the common rooms to acquire for the increased amount of students. Hermione sighed. It was all going to be so strange..so many new things in so old a place...

0-0-0

Much to her suprise, Mcgonnagol herself had come to greet Hermione at the train. They shared a carriage to the school, and the older woman pulled a small, shield-shaped badge out of her pocket.  
"I'm sure you've already considered this, and that you're not suprised at my offer. The truth is that you would be the best Head Girl..if you're willing to accept the offer?"  
Hermione gulped, anxiously. She had already considered it; she would have been a fool not to think that she would be offered it. But she didn't know if she could take it. It was bad enough being a war hero-now that she was returning, all she wanted to do was to loose herself in her studies, to emmerse herself in her work..  
Mcgonnagol continued, oblivious to Hermione's inner turmoil."You will, of course, have your own quarters-sharing with the Head Boy. Full access to the Prefect bathrooms, full Prefect privileges." She looked at Hermione imploringly."Honestly, I don't think that anybody else could do it. The students need to feel safe, need to feel protected. What better way than to have a war hero as Head Girl?"  
Hermione sighed; there was really no arguement to that. Twisting her features into what she hoped was a grateful smile, Hermione took the scarlet badge offered to her."I'd be happy too, Professor."She lied smoothly, suprised when Mcgonnagol began to laugh.  
"The Sorting Hat didn't put you into Slytherin for good reason, Hermione; you're an awful liar." Hermione blushed, and cast a side-long glance at her professor before joining in her laughter, if somewhat more reservedly. In any case, it felt good to laugh, Hermione decided. She didn't do it often enough..

A.N. It's rather short, but I didn't want to begin the next bit in this chapter...anyway, reviews are magic, guys! ~Braveheart


	2. keeping up appearances

A.N. I should probably mention; In this, Remus, Tonks, Fred and Moody didn't die. Because I think I might need them:)

0-0-0

The first sight of the castle took Hermione's breath away, as it always did; however this time, it was more for all of the memories that seeing the school brought back. Even as she walked into the Great Hall, Hermione could see ghosts of the battle replaying in her mind; memoriesvas vivid as if they were actually happening everywhere she looked.  
Her breath became shorter, her hands started shaking, and she could feel cold sweat on her neck; Drat her panic attacks and their bad timings! She had been prone to them since the Battle of Hogwarts, but had kept them at bay by keeping busy, and trying to forget. Obviously, this didn't completely dispelled them-in the still silence of the night, there was nothing for Hermione to do but give in to the panic until she somehow managed to fall asleep.  
But she had never told anyone about them. There had been no need to bother people with her own, tiny problems. Everyone had their own problems, and she would deal with hers.  
So now, there was no way that Hermione was going to give in, right infront of everyone. She was the War Hero, the Head Girl. How could she help everyone to stop being afraid, when she so clearly was?  
So, with an iron-resolve, Hermione clenched her teeth, and her hands.  
'Deep breaths,' she told herself, repeating it like a mantra until she had some semblance of control over herself.'Just get through the feast, and then you can panic when you're all alone in your Head Girl quarters.' The thought soothed her slightly; at least there was one good thing to come out of being Head Girl.  
Pacified, Hermione made her way carefully down to the Gryffindor table, focusing completely on the plate infront of her right through the sorting, until Mcgonnagol began talking.  
"To those of you returning, welcome back! And for all of the first years, welcome! Although indeed, it ought to be welcome to you all, for I am sure that this year will differ greatly from all those prior. For one, we have lost our headmaster-and yes, I am aware that last year we were without him also, but that year was so abysmal that I am not counting it. So, this will be our first year without Albus Dumbledore. However, due to his wishes, his portrait has been placed outside of the headmaster's office, such that any student who needs his advice or help, can recieve it. In this way, help is still, and always will be, offered to all at Hogwarts who need it."  
This announcement was followed by such fierce applause, that Hermione almost smiled slightly at the flustered Scottish woman waiting to talk. Almost.  
"Anyway,"she continued, after the roar had died down, "I would also like to announce that we are welcoming back Remus Lupin into the defence against the dark arts position, and Horace Slughorn will retain his potions position. Muggle Studies has been put on hold, until suitable arrangements can be made.  
And that brings us swiftly onto the Head Boy and Girl; As you know, Hermione Granger has returned to us, and agreed to the position of Head Girl. I am sure that she will do everything she can to help you with any problems you have. And to aid her, as she will aid him, Neville Longbottom has been appointed Head Boy."  
Mcgonnagol paused to beam in delight at the students, all of whom seemed to agrre with her choices. Hermione allowed herself a sigh of relief. She could have been stuck with much worse.  
"So, I have one last thing to say-tuck in!"  
0-0-0  
As soon as she was capable, Hermione fled the hall. There was only so much staring a person could take, even if it was staring in admiration.  
Although, if truth be told, she didn't really feel that she deserved the admiration; all she had really done is to happen to be the one that Harry and Ron had saved from the troll in their first year. It could have been anyone, and they would have ended up being the third part of the trio. Although she was glad that it was her. Harry was like a brother to her, and Ron...Well, Ron was Ron. She had promised to write to them both, Hermione remembered. She sped up her pace, and soon reached the portrait of an elderly lady that marked the entrance of the Head's quarters.  
"Hi there, sweetling. I'm Bronda. Password?" The portrait introduced herself. Hermione warmed slightly to the old lady.  
"Beedle the Bard" She replied, repeating the password that Mcgonnagol had told her.  
"Correct, my dear."Bronda smiled at Hermione."Now, without the password, no one is getting in-so be sure to only give the password to people you trust! And even then, informing me of those you have confided in would be helpful."  
"Oh, okay." Agreed Hermione. The portrait swung open to admit Hermione, and she clambered in with a yawn.  
The rooms were beautiful. The portrait hole led into a sitting room, with a couch in the muddle, facing a fire place. At the back wall, there were two doors; the left one leading to a small kitchenette, and the right to a bathroom exactly like the prefect's bathroom. Along the right wall, opposite from where the portrait opened up, a small flight of stairs ran up to a door, which led into a small hallway with a door on either side. On opening the left door, Hermione found a huge bedroom, with a four-poster bed in the middle, a desk against the wall opposite the door with a window above it, and a big closet opposite the bed. She recognised her old, worn trunk sitting on the bed, along with the small beaded bag that she had brought along at the last minute. The new owl that Ron had bought her was in his cage next to the trunks. The other door led to a replica of the first room. All of the rooms were, of course, done in the red and gold of Gryffindor, as both her and Neville belonged to that house.  
Hermione returned to the first bedro her bedroom. She considered unpacking her things, but realised that she was just too tired. Digging through her beaded bag, she found a two pieces of blank parchemant and her quill and ink pot. She also picked up her owl, smiling to herself when he hooted indignantly at having been woken. She placed him back down on the little desk, and looked at him thoughtfully.  
"I haven't given you a name yet, huh?" She mused, tapping her finger against her chin."Let's see...so you're jet black, with fiery amber eyes. A classy bird, no doubt...Caesar?" The bird looked less than happy."oh, I know! Snuffles!" Snuffles hooted again, and Hermione clapped her hands together."You do remind me of him rather. Sirius, I mean."  
She allowed herself afew moments petting the owl, before she forced herself to get on with the letters. Sitting at the desk, she placed a piece of parchement infront of her, and dipped her quill in the ink.

'My dearest Harry and Ron,' She wrote. 'I hope this letter finds you in good manner. Hogwarts is...different. It seems scarred, if that's even possible. Obviously there is no physical difference,(magic is amazing sometimes, really. I must find out what charms they used..)Anyway, despite that, there is a seeming sadness about the castle; it just feels different.  
You won't be suprised to know that I was offered the Head Girl position, and I took it. Neville is Head Boy, so that's nice. I think he will flourish. Lupin's back doing DADA, which was a suprise. You would have thought he would have told us, the amount of times we saw him!  
I hope the Auror training is going well for you both. Miss you both loads, and I can't wait to see you-I will send Snuffles with the dates as soon as I know.(Snuffles is the owl. Doesn't he remind you of Sirius? I think it does.)  
Missing you both,  
Hermione x.  
(P.S. Harry, you might not want to read note. Don't say i didn't warn you.)'

With a grin, Hermione signed the note, moved it to the side, and started on the other piece of parchement.

'Ron, now that we have some privacy-assuming Harry did as I bid, anyway-  
I can say what I want to. I miss you. Truly, honestly miss you. Every minute of every day i miss you. I think about the way you smell, the way you hold me and I just feel so safe. But most especially, I think about they way you make me feel, and-  
There. If Harry did read it, he probably got sick after the first sentence. But really, I do miss you. And i can't wait to see you again. And thankyou for Snuffles, he's just amazing. How's Harry holding up? Is he still on the obsession to take down every single death eater single handedly? I'm counting on you to stop him, okay? Look after him.

Hermione x.'

"There. That should keep them both content for a couple of days" Hermione told Snuffles. She folded the letters up, and tied them to his leg."Take these to my boys, please, Snuffles. To the ministry. Okay?" The owl hooted at her, as if offended that she would presume to question his abilities, and flew out of the window as soon as Hermione opened it.  
"And now that that's done..." She cast her eyes towards the luggage still needing to be unpacked, and sighed."Tomorrow," she mumbled, sleepily levitating it into the floor.  
She clambered into bed, still fully dressed, and gave in to the black panic from earlier.

0-0-0  
A.N. Waddya think? How's Hermione? I think she's darker than usual, but that's too be expected, i guess. Tell me what you think! ~Braveheart.i


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. Thankyou for the reviews, and sorry that it took so long-real life got in the way:3  
0-0-0

The following morning saw Hermione being woken by an owl incessantly pecking on her window.  
"Alright, alright, I'm getting up!" She mumbled, dragging herself out of bed, and to the window which she clumsily unlatched, still groggy with sleep. The sleek, snowy owl flew in, settled on her desk next to Snuffles' empty cage, and stuck its leg out, clearly annoyed at having been kept waiting.  
Hermione quickly untied the roll of parchemant, and mollified the owl with one of the owl treats sitting on her desk while she read the letter.

'Miss Granger,

Your presence has been requested in the Headmistress office immediately. '

That was it. Hermione stared at the letter in frustration for several moments, before yelping loudly.  
"Oh, Merlin! It says immediately!" She sprung into action, pulling on her robes, and dragging her wild hair into a ponytail at the back of her head. Finally, she grabbed her wand from underneath her pillow, tucking it into her pocket, and ran.

0-0-0

Hermione reached the grand staircase, puffing for air. She gave the password, which both she and Neville had been informed of, and climbed the stairs. On opening the heavy wooden doors, Hermione the office filled with people, all crowding around the desk in the centre of the room. At her entrance, everyone had stopped talking and turned to look at her. She blushed.  
"So nice of you to join us, Miss Granger." McGonnagol said, making Hermione blush deeper."At any rate, you are here now and that is what matters. Well, don't just stand gawping in the doorway, come in!"  
Hermione nodded, and cast her eyes over the assembled company. She saw all of the professors, Kingsley, the new Minister, Neville, and finally, her eyes came to rest on Draco Malfoy. A rather grungy, down-cast shadow of Draco Malfoy, but him nonetheless.  
Her eyes sought out Neville, pleading with him to explain.  
"Well, uh, Hermione," He began, avoiding her eyes,"It would appear that the halls of Hogwarts shall once more be graced by his presence." The venom in Neville's voice showed his true feelings.  
Hermione felt herself getting very angry, very fast-why should Death Eater scum like him be allowed back? What had he done to deserve it?  
She put all of these questions to Kingsley, firing without waiting for answer."This is unbelievable! Wasn't he the one responsible for the battle of the astronomy tower? He was going to kill Dumbledore! He is a Death Eater, he was part of the inner circle. HE FOUGHT FOR VOLDEMORT!" Hermione finished, the room silent and still. Kingsley looked calm, despite her outburst. Neville looked defiant, and everyone else looked horrified. Except for Malfoy. Slowly, enough that everyone turned to watch him, he unfolded himself from the chair. Slowly he walked up to Hermione, standing just away from her. He said nothing for a moment, just stared at her with grey eyes, both empty and full of fire at the same time. His platinum hair hung about his face in lank, greasy locks, and his face was gaunt and haggard; he looked like a mad man. Yet when he did speak, his voice was low, cold,and deadly quiet.  
"I am not asking for your sympathy, Granger. Nor am I asking for your anything. I don't even want to be here, but my Mother demanded it. I am all she has, and I will be damned if I make her unhappy in anyway. All you need to do is stay away from me."  
Hermione gulped, loudly. Malfoy grinned at her-not in a friendly way, in which two people share a joke, but in the way that a shark grins at a fish it means to eat. It sent shivers down her spine.  
There was afew seconds of silence as he sat back down again.  
"He has the right of it, Miss Granger." Kingsley said in his deep tones."We are informing you of his presence, to prevent you from unexpectedly happening across him, and thereby thinking him a threat. And yes, we are aware of the threat he presents-he will have an Auror with him at all times, until such a time that he has either proved his loyalty, or his loyalty has been vouched for"  
She relaxed, and her heart relaxed-Ron could be his tail, and then she could see him.  
"There is a catch, though." Came Lupin's voice, drawing her out of her reverie at the thought of being able to see Ron again. She looked at him inquisitively, and his returning look was almost apologetic.  
"You see, we can't trust him to sleep in the dungeons with the other Slytherins. He might try and assume Voldemort's position, or something. The only other solution, as we see it, is to place him in quarters with you both." Hermione sucked in a deep breath, feeling like she had just been punched. Next to her, Neville gave a cry of outrage.  
She willed herself to think, to come up with some viable reason as to why what they were suggesting was impossible.  
"The room isn't big enough!" She finally said, somewhat triumphantly. Lupin just looked sadly at her."Magical expansions." He said simply. It was all he needed to say; she was, after all, proficient in them. Their quarters had, apparantly, been charmed to change to fit the occupants. This meant that, if there was an extra person, the room would change to fit. Hermione said nothing; there was nothing to say. They had evidently made up their minds. She would just have to live with the fallout.  
"When?" She asked.  
"He will be there by lunch today." Came the reply. With a terse nod, Hermione swept out of the room.

0-0-0

Mid-day found Hermione pacing around the small living room.  
"Please, you're making me tired just from watching you! Sit down." Neville complained. He patted the seat next to him on the little sofa. With a sigh, she sat down, and Neville enveloped her in a hug. After the battle, the pair had grown rather close, and Hermione viewed him as the brother she never had. But always wanted. "It's going to be okay, you know. I won't let him hurt you." He murmured into the top of her head. He said almost offhandidly, yet she did not doubt that he meant it.  
"I know. It doesn't change it though. Draco Malfoy is still going to be living here. With us. With me. They must be mad to agree to this."  
"I reckon Harry had something to do with it. After all, Narcissa saved him, and he probably still thinks he owes her-even after he testified for her, after he got her help when Lucius went to Azkaban. If Narcissa asked him to get Malfoy into Hogwarts, wouldn't he have done it?"  
"I guess. But why wouldn't he warn me?"  
Neville sighed, and wrapped her closer to him."Well, I guess you would have to ask him that."


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. Trying something a little different here guys, I hope it works! ~Braveheart

0-0-0

Draco stood infront of the portrait, taking a deep breath.  
"Well, honey, standing out here all day isn't going to achieve anything." Bronda pointed out, not unkindly.  
He sighed."Well going in there isn't going to either." He sighed again; not for this first time wishing that he wasn't quite such a doormat ad far as his mother was concerned. But he didn't have the heart to tell her that, after everything she had been through, she would be denied such a simple thing.  
So here he was, finishing school. Or at least, trying to.  
"Beedle the Bard." He grumbled finally, knowing that the longer he stayed out here, the worse it would get.  
"There we go!" She congratulated him, smiling at him in what he was sure was supposed to be a dazzling way. He smiled back somewhat weakly, and braced himself as the portrait swung open.  
He clambered through the hole, and was immediately greeted by evil stares from Granger. Geez, had she been waiting for him?  
He pasted his trademark smirk on his face, his old mask falling into place as easily as breathing.  
"Were you waiting for me? I'm touched, Granger." His smirk widened at her growl of a response.  
"Watch it, Malfoy." Longbottom warned, in something somewhat reminicient to a threatening tone. Of course, how Longbottom ever thought he could be threatening...Draco rolled his eyes.  
"I mean it." Longbottom said, obviously thinking that Draco had raised his eyes at him. Draco made no response, but merely sneered at him in a derogatory manner. To his credit, the oaf didnt flinch too much, although he did visibly pale.  
Draco laughed. Hauling his trunk through the hole, he levitated it, and went to find his room, laughing as Granger made growling comments under her breath.

0-0-0  
Draco had tried the other two doors before realising that of course his room would be the one opposite to the top of the stairs; it made sense. Silently cursing his stupidity, whilst at the same time thanking every deity that he had been alone, Draco pushed open the door and studied his new room.  
It was set up in the same manner as the other two; the wall opposite the door with a window above it, and a big closet opposite the bed that stood against the centre of the wall adjacent to the door. The only difference being, of course, that the room was adjusted to him. Where the other two had been done in red and gold, his was the trademark green and silver of his house. His bedsheets were the silk and satin that he preffered, and, contrasting the other two, his room was utterly devoid of anything belonging to him.  
With a sigh, he closed the door and began unpacking.

He was just setting a picture of his mother, laughing and smiling as she hugged her son, on his desk when there was a knock at his door; quiet, unintrustive, and yet still demanding. Draco rolled his eyes. His Auror buddy had arrived.  
With a casual slowness, Draco saundered to the door and pulled it open lazily. He smiled his greasiest, most charming smile and so he was, understandably, more than slightly irritated when it seemed to have no affect on the honey-blonde stood at his door. Scowling, he quickly noted all he could about her from her appearance.  
Her long hair was tied back into a simple, practical ponytail. She wore simple, black jeans and a thin jumper, again black, underneath her plain black robes. He could see her wand strapped to her arm, from where she had rolled her sleeves back past her elbow. Her shoes were simple, practical trainers. Everything about her oozed practicality, right up to the expression she wore; the only emotion showing being some slight curiosity.  
His scowl deepened.  
"Mr Malfoy," she greeted him formally, in what was probably the first if-not-warm-than-not-exactly-cold-either voice he had heard from anyone but his mother.  
His scowl, if possible, deepened even further.  
"My name's Jessica, and I'm going to be your..." she hesitated, trying to find the right wording."I'm going to be your guard?" She phrased it almost like a question, to which Draco half-lifted a shoulder in response. She nodded."Your guard." She repeated."There will be one other Auror, who I will switch with at times, but he has not been named to me yet. In anycase, the majority of the time, it will be me. I do not mean to intrude on your life, Mr Malfoy, but I have been given my orders, and i will follow them. I will be with you at all times, except when you are sleeping, using the bathroom. Also, if you are in the company of at least one Order Member, or one member of staff, they can request that I wait outside for you. You will, however, always be with someone. I suggest that you get used to this, and do not try to fight. I will not make this any harder than it has to be, Mr Malfoy, and I expect you to do the same. Also," she added as an afterthought, "You may call me Jessie."  
Draco just stared. He had thought that his Auror would be male, and definately not...hot. He grinned again. As if reading his mind, Jessie added, "Our relationship will, of course, be purely proffesional, although I may grow to like you. If you do attempt to breach this, and to elevate our relationship to the next level, I will be replaced with another, less, well, nice Auror. So I would think carefully about that." She grinned slightly at him, and Draco was suprised at the emotion she allowed. It was only fleeting, though, and then she pushed past him and sat herself down at his desk."Don't let me interrupt you, Mr Malfoy," she told him, when he hadnt moved from the door.  
"I'm not 'Mr'." He mumbled.  
"What?"  
"My father was Mr. Malfoy. I'm just Malfoy. Or, I suppose you can call me Draco." He told her grudgingly. She grinned at him again.  
"Draco it is."

0-0-0

Draco had managed to unpack all of his things before a question rose to his mind. He turned to Jessie, who was currently stroking the soft, tan feathers of his handsome owl, whom he had named Trixy, as the owl had a certain gleam in its eye that reminded him of his Aunt Bella. Which was reasonable, as she had been the one to give her to him.  
"A present," she had said, "for my favourite nephew, and the newest member of the elite Inner Circle." He remembered feeling slightly sick at the twisted pleasure she had taken in his induction. Not that he hadn't been pleased himself, but from anvearly age his Aunt had scared him, although as he grew he respected and loved her just ad much as he feared her.

Draco drew himself out of the memory."Um, Jessie?" He asked, getting her attention."Where are you going to sleep?"  
Her big, blue eyes showed nothing but innocence as she answered, "with you, of course!" Draco did a double take, before he noticed the mischief that shone from her face. He scowled at her, for the third since her arrival. She merely grinned back at him.  
"I have my own quarters, just next to yours. You don't need to worry."  
He harumphed at her. She grinned, and went back to petting his owl.

"'It'll be good for you,' she said." Draco grumbled. The things he did for his mother...

0-0-0  
So what did you think? Do you like the Draco point of view? What i'm trying to get through is that he hasn't suddenly renounced his ways; he is the same old Draco, and the only reason he is back at Hogwarts is because of his mother. Lucius is, by the way, in Azkaban. His mother is not..but more on that later!  
So review, please,I want opinions on the Draco! And jessica, too..what do you think is going to happen with her?:)


	5. Chapter 5

A.n. And we're back to Hermione!  
Thankyou for all of the reviews, though; I shall try and do some Draco every so often, just to make it interesting!

I know it's been a while, but I was attacked bt severe writer's block, and I wrote this chapter eleven times until I was happy with it, so...here you go!

0-0-0

Hermione seethed. That prat, that bigoted, slimy, evil, loathsome Draco Malfoy was still in the shower. After an hour. With fifteen minutes until the first lesson of the year. And she still had to get ready. She had missed breakfast!  
"Malfoy!" She shrieked, banging on the door yet again."I STILL HAVE TO GET READY!" She went to bang on the door again, and so was off-balanced when the door opened, and she fell into Draco Malfoy, who raised a delicate blonde eyebrow at her.  
"And whilst I appreciate your attention, Granger, you throwing yourself at me will achieve nothing but your ultimate embarrasment. You are simply not my type."  
Hermione, blushing a bright red, stood as cooly as her somewhat ruffled dignity would allow her, which wasn't really all that much.  
She tried to sneer at him, although she was sure that her bright red cheeks added nothing to the expression.  
"I was not throwing myself at you." She told him, in her best stuck-up voice. "But, now that you are done, I can finally get myself ready." Throwing him what she severely hoped was a contemptuous glare, Hermione lifted her chin and walked past him, casting the appropriate charms behind her.

She felt her anger dissapitate with the hot water, but her mortification remained. She had fallen, into Draco Malfoy. Not just near him, or next to him. No, she had gone and fallen right into his arms. And he, the slimy git, had laughed at her, had made fun of her.  
Her decision was made then, in the shower, on the first morning of lessons in her eight year:  
She would rid Hogwarts of the plague named Draco Malfoy, or in Merlin's name, she would die trying.

Hermione was still fuming by the time she reached Potions, the first lesson of the day. Her hair, which was dry only thanks to a quick-dry charm, was pulled back into a ponytail.  
They had potions with the Slytherins; what better way to try start her plan?  
And so she sat down, at her usual seat at the front of the classroom, and got out her things. There was no sign of either Malfoy or Professor Slughorn, and she hoped feverishly that the latter arrived first-it would aid her plan incredibly if he was late to the very first lesson! Of course, she had yet to work out the more fine details, but she could figure that out tonight.  
Cutting of her thoughts completely, Malfoy sauntered in, a pretty blonde with soft features following him. He had obviously made some sort of joke, because she was laughing, and he had a sly grin on his face. Hermione wanted nothig more than to go and slap it from his face; but she refrained, telling herself that her plan would be better than slapping him a million times. And so she contented herself with working out the finer details of her plan. It was a simple one, really: all she had to do was to make him show his true colours, to break through that icy mask of his-so really, she just had to annoy him. And that she could do.

It wasn't long after Malfoy's entrance that Slughorn arrived; he looked much the same as he had when Hermione had seen him after the Battle of Hogwarts, but she could have sworn that new lines markes his face, and that he carries himself with a new weariness, as if he had aged years in the time since she had seen him last. Her heart went out to the proffesor; the war had left no-one unaffected.  
Whilst Hermione had been having her inner monologue, Slughorn had already given the class their instructions. Hermione mentally cursed herself, looked to the chalkboard to see what potion they were making, and sighed in relief. Apparently, Slughorn wanted to get them used to making potions again, as he had simply tasked them with beginning the Polyjuice potion-a feat Hermione had accomplished in her second year. She found it oddly comforting to be working the ingredients that were so familiar to her, almost like a reminder of Harry and Ron, of before the war. She smiled softly as she worked, happy to be in control again.  
Although she had considered work in the ministry, or even as a healer, but she knew that what she really wanted to do was to become a potions mistress-she loved the control that she had, how she has the potential to do anything, to make any potion she wanted. She loved the possibilities that were open to her when she was faces with an empty cauldron, and some ingredients.

Before she knew it, the lesson was over, and she was packing her thinga away. She watched with a scowl as Malfoy and his Auror sauntered out, and, unfazed by the glares and looks he was getting, Malfoy said something to her, eliciting a laugh. She could feel her scowl deepening; how could anyone, least of all an Auror, be able to be chummy with Malfoy like that? She was determined to figure it out.

0-0-0

The rest of the day passed in a blur; she had no more lessons with him in, and so existed in a peaceful state wherein she spent her free time plotting the his demise. Safe to say, she enjoyed herself.  
And so she sat on the little sofa in her dorm, with two completed essays to her left, and a log role of parchment, nearly finished, lay across the table. Hermione was just adding the last few sentences when Malfoy entered loudly, startling her so that she spilt her ink all across the almost completed essay.  
"No!" She cried, immediately righting the bottle, and casting a cleaning spell. To her dismay, the spell wiped the entire parchment clean, and she gave a little moan, as if she had been caused actual, physical pain. She cradled her head in her hands, and glared at Malfoy who stood in the doorway.  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" She demanded.  
He smirked, inspecting a perfect nail on a delicate finger. "It may have escaped your notice, Granger, but I do live here." He strode past her on the sofa, towards his room, but paused slightly on his way passed. "Nice essay, Granger," he teased. She growled at him and he laughed, sauntering off.  
"So help me, he will not last the year here." She swore determinedly, and began her essay from scratch.  
It only occurred to her afew moments later that Draco had been alone, lacking the company of the blonde Auror. Puzzled, she set down her quill. The portrait squeaked as it swung open, ans Hermione started guiltily, as if she has been caught doing something incriminating. When no one came to see what she was doing, Hermione cautiously stuck her head out into the corridor.  
"Miss Granger?" A soft voice called. For the third time in as many minutes Hermione jumped, this time landing on the floor of the corridor on her butt. Redfaced, she looked up at the pretty blonde giving her a confused look; the Auror.  
Hurriedly she stood, dusting herself off and assuming as much dignity as she could muster.  
"Yes, that is me." She held out her hand to be shook, hoping that she could seem collected enough to balance out the furious red of her cheeks.  
"Jessica," the blonde replied, with a pretty smile.  
Hermione grimaced; obviously Draco's pretty blonde Auror would have a pretty name. And a pretty voice. Sort of... tinkly. Not the kind of voice one normally associated with Aurors.  
Drawing herself from her mental ramblings, Hermione realised that she still held Jessica's hand, and dropped it hastily.  
With an expression that was meant to be a friendly smile but was probably looked more painful than friendly, Hermione turned on her heel and walked off down the corridor.  
It wasn't until she had turned the corner that she realised she had no where to go, and so, with a flaming, downcast face, Hermione returned to a now-confused Jessica, mumbled something about having forgotten something, and clambered back into the relative safety of the common room.  
"Bloody hell," she whispered, and promptly lay down on the couch, exhausted.

0-0-0


	6. Chapter 6

A.N

This chapter contains both point of views, alternatingly..I hope it isn't confusing:3 But every time is switches, the narrating character is referred to by their first name in the first sentence:) So, read on for the next installment^-^

0-0-0

Hermione woke in her room, underneath the covers, still fully dressed.  
Immediately as she had made this discovery, she sat bolt upright-she had fallen asleep on the sofa, she knew she had. So how did she get to her room?  
It was then that she saw a piece of parchment on the pillow next to her; no note, just simply a signature: Neville's.  
Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She would thank Neville in the morning. Frowning, she then realised that she didn't know when exactly morning was. Picking up her wand from next to the parchment, Hermione cast a simple time charm; 12:27 AM.  
"Brilliant." She said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Now what do I do?"  
Resigning herself to the fact that she wasn't going to get back to sleep, Hermione clambered out of bed, still groggy with sleep. A quick change out of her disgruntled uniform, and she opened the door, feet padding softly against the carpet as she made her way to the little kitchen, careful not to make too much noise.

She made a pot of tea, and sat at the small table.  
She was annoyed in herself for having fallen asleep: What about constant vigilance?  
She was sharing a dorm with Draco Malfoy now. She needed to be more careful. He was a Death Eater, and the only reason that he wasn't in Azkaban was because Harry had testified on his behalf, partly for Narcissa and the debt Harry felt he owed her, and partly because he felt that "Malfoy had no choice, Hermione. Voldemort had his mother-and you know what Lucius did when he found out that Narcissa lied for me. If Malfoy had tried anything, she would have died. And I'm not saying that he was secretly rooting for us. He wasn't; but he was brought up with these beliefs, they were ingrained into him. Surely he is allowed a chance to try to redeem himself?"  
This arguement had won over the Ministry, when Harry had given it to them. And she supposed he had a point. But still; he was a Death Eater. He had committed atrocities, she was sure of it. She knew what had occured at the Revels-where he would have been present, as a member of the Inner Circle.  
No, as long as Draco Malfoy was around, Hermione had to watch herself.  
As if summoned by the power of her thoughts, the Slytherin sauntered through the door, scowling at Hermione and running a hand through his bed-ridden hair.  
Hermione was disgruntled to see that he has neglected to wear a shirt, before remembering the rather scanty pajamas she herself had thrown on; some muggle shorts and an old chudley cannons top of Ron's. She smiled softly as she remembered him giving it to her. She had been at the Burrow, packing for Hogwarts, when Ron had shown up with the top in his hands. He had thrust it at her, in the awkward manner that she found so endearing in him, telling her that it was for her, so she wouldn't miss him as much.  
She had hugged him, she remembered, and had felt so safe, encircled within his arms.  
Hermione sighed softly. She missed him.  
She was pulled out of her memories with a start, as Malfoy sat down opposite her, with a mug of her tea in his hands. She glared at him.  
"What exactly do you imagine you are doing, Malfoy?" She demanded.  
"Well, I thought I was sitting down, Granger. Surely even the Gryffindor Princess can see that?" He mocked.  
Her glare deepened.  
"Well you are, aren't you?" He asked, deliberately mistaking her glare. He sat back in his chair, rocking it so it rested on the back two legs. "The Gryffindor Princess, I mean."  
Hermione refused to even deign that with an answer; she simply sipped her tea.  
Malfoy smirked.  
"So, Princess-" she winced at his new name for her. "-what objection do you have to my presence?"  
"Other than the obvious, you mean?" She snarled.  
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at his bare chest. "The obvious being my oh-so-naked state? What's the matter, Granger? Have you never seen a real man, before?"  
Hermione began to object that that wasn't what she had meant at all, she was reffering to his status as Death Eater, but he smirked again, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck, cursing herself for letting it. She had no reason to be blushing, it was just the damned audacity that he had to presume-  
"Oh, come off it, Princess. Surely you and the weasel must have-" Malfoy broke off, an incredulous look on his face. "Well, I'll be damned!"  
"What Ronald and I do is none of your concern, Malfoy. " she told him coldly, and fixed him with her most steely glare.  
But he simply ignored her, laughing to himself. She couldn't stand it; she stood up, and regarded him cooly.  
"I do not agree with you being here, Malfoy. I do not think you deserve to be here. Hogwarts does not need the likes of you here. You do not belong."  
Hermione made to sweep past him, and out of the door, but he caught her arm and stopped her. Standing, she had to look up at him-he was far taller than her, and he stared down at her with steely, harsh grey eyes.  
"Granger." He said, softly. "Do not presume to know me, or to understand me enough to be able to say what I deserve. You pretend to be all high and mighty, as if you're some kind of Saint," he spat the word, "but in truth you are no better than I. You judge me, because of my family, because of my past. You judge me because I chose the best I could from the options presented to me. Well I apologise, Princess, but not all of us had the world handed to us on a fucking silver platter. Not all of us have parents who dote on us, to tell us that we're so brilliant. Some of us had to try to make the best of what we had, and even then it wasn't always even fucking okay. So don't, Princess. Don't judge me when you don't even fucking know me."  
Hermione wrenched her arm from his grip as a tear rolled down her face.  
"I don't." She hissed, suprised at the venom in her voice, enough that even he flinched, even if he recovered straight away. "My parents don't even know that I exist, Malfoy. I had to obliterate them so that they would be safe. So if you want to argue about tough choices, then think about that. At least you still have a parent."  
And she turned and fled, before he could see the cascade of tears flooding her features.

0-0-0

Draco stood, not having moved since her exit.  
He had lectured her for judging without knowing, but hadn't he done exactly the same?  
"Shit." He whispered softly, as he sat back down and cradled his head in his hands. Because he hadn't known that-how the fuck was he supposed to have known that?  
But she had been right, of course. Lucius was in Azkaban-where Draco severely wished he would rot, after all he did to his mother- but Narcissa was, quite firmly, very much still a parent. Or, as much as she could be, in her current condition.  
But at least he still had a parent.  
He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, to obliterate her own parents, to erase herself from their memory. He didn't think he could do it. And it was all to keep them safe-from his side, he thought bitterly.  
And he respected her for that. He still hated her-after all, she was still exactly the same person as she had been before he had found out. But he also held some tiny, almost insignificant fragment of something that was remotely like respect for her. But it was very small.

0-0-0

Back in her room, Hermiome was ashamed at her dramatics. She knew perfectly well that she could find her parents at any point and return their memory, but she just couldn't make herself do it. She had traveled to find them, after the war. Her and Ron and set off, but when they had found them, she had wished they hadn't.  
Because they had started a new life for themselves, in Australia. They had a business, a house-Monica was pregnant. How could Hermione break up that? Her parents were happy; that was enough for her.  
Of course, she was keeping a watch over them. Or rather, Ron was for her, but she couldn't bring herself to take away everything that they had built up for themselves.  
And yes, technically Malfoy still had both his parents. But Lucuis was in Azkaban for life, and Narcissa, thanks to Lucius, resided in St. Mungos, barely aware of anything. Barely counting as a parent.  
Hermione snorted with laughter. She had something in common with Malfoy: both of them were sort of orphans from the war.

0-0-0

Draco woke meaning to apologise for what he had said. But he didn't see her at breakfast, although he spent most of it searching the Gryffindor table for her bushy mane of hair. He had charms with her second, he recalled. He would talk to her then.  
He turned to Jessie, sat next to him, as a thought occured to him. "When I visit my mother, do you come aswell?" He couldn't say that he relished the idea of that. He hated how people treated him eitht pity after they saw his mother. As if he needed or wanted to be pitied.  
"I do, but I can wait outside, if it is prefferable to you." Draco nodded a sharp, tight nod, and went back to his breakfast.  
He was visiting his mother on the weekend, and he didn't know if he was looking forward to it, or not.  
His musings were interrupted by a person sitting down very loudly next to him. Wearily, Draco looked towards the newcomer.  
"Blaise?" He asked incredulously. The boy hadn't spoken to him since Dumbledore's death. Something about remaining neutral, as if that was possible.  
"Draco." Blaise greeted, somewhat formally. Draco noted with some amusement that he looked everywhere but at him.  
"Is there something I can help you with?" Draco asked, glacially polite. Behind him, he heard Jessie turn to watch the two boys.  
"I just...I..well..." Blaise stammered. Draco raised an eyebrow. Blaise had never stammered.  
"What he means to say," the familiar voice of Theodore Nott added as he sat opposite Draco, "is that he wishes to re-engage in the friendship that the two of you had, prior to the Battle of the Astronomy Tower."  
Blaise threw a black look at Theo.  
"What the fuck happened to neutral?" Draco asked with a smirk. Blaise blanched.  
"My father is in Azkaban. I am judged based on that, because there are no actions of my own on which to judge me. I may aswell restore everything that I lost in the name of neutrality."  
Draco stood. "I think we should get to class, Jessie." He put a hand on her shoulder, willing her to play along. She smiled gracefully at him and rose.  
"Sure thing, Drakey." She said, taking his hand. They exited swiftly, Draco resolutely refusing to look back, whilst simultaneously thanking every deity he knew that Jessie had played along.  
The second that they were through the grand oak doors, she whirled on him. "What the hell was that?"  
He chuckled. "Blaise and Theo are two lackwits who have decided that I am something they can drop and pick up again, as per their whimsy." He shrugged. "I didn't like that."  
"I get that. But this?" She raised the hand that still held his. Draco blushed, and let go of her hand. "I just..I didn't want them to know that I have to be guarded by an Auror because nobody trusts me. I just...I didn't think it was any of their concern." He ran a hand through his hair. "There was no way to consult you, so I just...took a gamble."  
Jessie laughed. "it's okay, Draco, I figured as much."  
At hearing his name, Draco smirked. "Drakey?" He asked.  
She grinned. "I remembered hearing that pug-faced one call you it-the one who was always all over you."  
Draco frowned. "How?"  
"I'm only a year older than you! She would sit on your lap in the common room, and simper all over you. It was pretty nauseating, if I'm honest." Jessie grinned again.  
"You were in Slytherin?" Draco asked, frowning again.  
"Throw the boy a bone, he catches on fast!" She teased, eliciting a scowl from him.  
"Come on then, Drakey. You have a lesson to get to!" Jessie caught up his hand again, replying to his look of confusion, "We might as well give the same impression to everyone."  
Draco nodded, gratefully.

0-0-0

As he had thought, he didn't see Hermione until charms. Even then, however, she was sat at the front, surrounded by her Gryffindor buddies.  
So it wasn't until after lessons, when he went to the library to do homework that he saw her. She was sat at the sane table she had sat for the past 7 years; Madam Pince actually referred to it as 'Hermiones's corner'.  
Draco stood, weighing up his options. Finally he decided and went to join her, earning a glare.  
"Where's your girlfriend?" She asked, looking past him. Draco was confused, before he remembered that it was supposed to be Jessie.  
"Outside." He said. Hermione knew she was also his Auror. He considered telling her that they weren't actually together, but she probably wouldn't understand why it was he was lieing. He just didn't want the entire of Hogwarts to know that he wasn't trusted by anyone in the Wizarding World, even when in Hogwarts. He sighed wearily. He wanted nothing more than to go somewhere, far from prying eyes, and simply be. But he couldn't; Malfoy Manor still belonged to his Mother, so he couldn't sell it yet, and he had no source of money income-only the allowance that the Ministry saw fit to allow him each week. And it was little enough that he couldn't save any; it only just covered neccesities. Anything big that he wanted to buy had to be approved by the ministry. They had not approved of his plan to buy a house. Something about him being an 'undesirable tenant'. And so, he was stuck at Hogwarts.  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" She asked, wearily. He looked at her-properly looked. She looked tired, a sort of bone deep tired that doesn't vanish with a good night's sleep; although she looked like she could do with one.  
"To study." He told her. At her glare, Draco resolutely took his parchment, quill and ink from his bag, along with his books, and set them on the table infront of him.  
It was petty, he knew, but when she gave a little sigh of resignation, Draco couldn't help but feel as if he had won some sort of battle. She had relented; surely that was a victory for him?  
He sat back and savoured it.  
She sat back and glared at him. But she didn't say anything. This was the perfect time to apologise, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. In doing so, he would ruin his own victory, he would allow that he had made a mistake. And he couldn't do that. Which left him with two options: Either do as he had said, and study; or leave-which, really, was the same as relinquishing his victory. If he left, she would know he hadn't actually meant to study. He was trapped; now resigned, he leant forwards and began the essay from Slughorn on the benefits of making more of a potion than needed.

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